


There in the Warp and the Woof

by ambiguously



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christian-Themed Religious Discussion, Extra Treat, Light Bondage, Lovers to enemies to lovers, M/M, Object Insertion, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-22 21:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18535396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Iaoth and Danjal were lovers before the Fall. Now they meet again to struggle for the sake of a soul.





	There in the Warp and the Woof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peternurphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peternurphy/gifts).



Not for the first time, Danjal is already there when Iaoth incarnates. A soul is in peril, caught between choices. The decision she makes today will determine her fate. Naturally, Iaoth thinks, she should choose the side of Good and thus save her soul from eternal torment. Danjal is already muttering in her ear to coerce her to choose otherwise.

He looks up from his work, grinning with fiery teeth at Iaoth. "You're too late. She's going to steal it."

Iaoth ignores him and settles himself to the woman's other side. He places a hand full of grace on her shoulder, and he says, "You are better than this. You are a better person than this. There is another way."

They whisper to her for an hour. Iaoth feels the tipping point move back and forth, the needle of her salvation falling over to Danjal's side before swinging back, over and over.

The telephone on her table buzzes. When she answers, it's her sister, and the hope that springs inside of her shifts her away from Hell. She stands up and walks away.

Danjal says, "We'll catch her again. She'll be tempted further. This is only a temporary win, Angel."

Iaoth smiles. "We shall see." Finished with their task, the two of them shift to a more casual stance. "You are looking well, for someone living in a pit of molten fire. I'd have expected more charring around your feathers."

Danjal rolls his eyes. "I told you when I left that the Hellscape wouldn't be as bad as They made it out to be. You think the Morningstar wants to live in misery? I rest in a gossamer bed. You roost in a tight, golden cage. Which of us is more free?"

Iaoth rustles his wings. "You are cut off forever from the Holy. A gossamer bed is nothing."

"You think so?" Danjal places a hot hand against Iaoth's arm. Iaoth feels the tug. "Come with me. We'll compare."

"You think you'll get me back into your bed so easily?" Iaoth smiles sweetly. "I told you when you left that we would not share that communion again."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Danjal says with a silky voice. "I merely wish to show you where I live. It's all right. Hell isn't like Heaven. There aren't gates. You won't be trapped inside."

And that was truth. When the fundament was split, Heaven was sealed off. Only the Elect can enter, their number chosen by the weight of their choices in life. Hell has no door. The souls trapped inside are bound by the weight of their own sins, chained with each ill-made decision. What the demons haven't noticed yet, or don't care to see, is that when those choices have burned through their consequences, the chains melt away, and the souls are free. It's not a perfect system, Iaoth thinks in his deepest heart, but it is the one they abide by.

"Very well. Show me where you rest," he says. Danjal gives him a sly grin, the smoky expression of a demon who remembers paradise in Iaoth's arms from aeons ago, and is hoping to return to that state.

The journey takes less than a breath. Incorporeal beings aren't bound by physics. They are suddenly light years away from the woman and the room, and they are separated from her and her world by a molecule's width. Iaoth has not forgotten her, nor Danjal's threat against her. He will keep an eye on her now, guiding her steps as much as he can. But for this moment, he can allow his attention to be taken up by the sight before him.

He expected a suite in Hell to be decorated in crimson and blood, with some sort of entrails motif on the walls. Instead, Danjal's private space is a light blue, with a constant light breeze that smells of the sea. His walls feature small pictures, which, when Iaoth looks more closely, are windows to the world.

There is the palace of Uk-rang, looking into the second dynasty. This is a village in Akkad, the villagers going about their business long before the invaders came. This is Suzhou, from a year ago. The windows peer into many familiar places. There is one window that has no image, only a golden wall; Danjal cannot peer into Heaven.

These are the places they have met. Danjal's room is decorated with Iaoth.

Iaoth turns to him. "You have an interesting taste in décor."

"I thought you might enjoy it."

"Enjoy isn't the word." He's known Danjal has never forgotten him, could never forget. He has never entertained the notion that his old lover would continue to be obsessed with him after so many millennia apart.

"And of course," Danjal says, "as I said." He gestures at the large, luxurious cushion taking up much of the space. Iaoth places a hand on the softness. Pure gossamer, blue like the sky over Warsaw the day Iaoth saved that boy from Danjal's clutches. Iaoth's job is to save souls. He's very good at it, he knows without pride.

"Lie down," Iaoth tells Danjal. "Let me see how you sleep."

It's a joke. Angels don't sleep, and what is a demon but an angel who's made poor choices? Danjal gives him the smoky look again, and moves his body to his bed. Iaoth is not at all surprised when his robes evaporate as he does. Danjal rests on his back, elbows holding him up. His wings frame him, a soft nimbus around the taut planes of his body. They chose human male bodies so long ago even Iaoth can't remember, but no human male has this look of stunning perfection. 

He's erect of course. Choosing human bodies meant choosing human reactions, although Iaoth has not met the human who can will his genitals to stand firm or hide away at need. Danjal grins again, noticing Iaoth's intense stare at his groin.

"It's all right, Angel," he purrs. "You're pure. A little temptation will hardly soil you. Touch if you want."

"I think you mean that you'd like me to touch you."

"I wouldn't object."

Danjal thinks he is seducing Iaoth. Danjal is sure Iaoth will join him on his bed, and will stroke his cock, and they will become lovers again for this one set-aside hour.

Danjal is mistaken about some details.

"Roll over," Iaoth commands. "I want to see how the backs of your wings have been faring, lying here on this poor excuse for a roost."

Danjal snorts. "You're worried about my wings?"

Iaoth folds his arms and waits. Finally, Danjal makes a muttered noise and rolls himself. The feathers on his wings are undamaged from nights on his back. Iaoth doesn't want him on his back. Face down, his arms casually spread on the soft cushion, Danjal's perfectly-sculpted ass is on display.

Iaoth smiles.

A halo is not precisely a physical thing, and not precisely energy, but it can be made manifest with ease. Iaoth scoops his own halo into form, and with a flicker, he binds Danjal's wrists to his own bed. Then he places his hand on Danjal's pert bottom. Such perfection. Such a waste.

Danjal twists and turns, but he cannot escape. "Angel, what are you doing?"

Iaoth raises his hand and brings it down against Danjal with a hard smack. A human cannot hurt a demon. An angel's slap can be pure torture. Danjal gasps, an odd reaction for one who doesn't need to breathe. Iaoth notes it for later. He smacks Danjal again. Demon skin doesn't bruise, and it cannot break. Instead, under the deep, dark bronze, it reddens in the shape of Iaoth's divine handprint.

"You have sinned," Iaoth says, and spanks him again. "You have followed the ways of Lucifer and denounced the Holy." Another smack. Danjal gasps again. He writhes under the torment as Iaoth's hand falls down upon him, relentless. Iaoth sees he is trying to get purchase, trying to rub his cock against his own bed. But gossamer has no weight nor friction. It's like trying to dry-hump a cloud. Danjal whines in frustration. Iaoth spanks him again.

"You could have stayed."

"No," Danjal says against the cushion. "I could never have stayed." Another smack, and he cries out in sweet anguish. "No! I knew too much. I saw the cracks in the Holy." Iaoth does not stop. "Angel, there is no justice, no mercy. Judgement. The Elect. It's all a lie." Iaoth goes to spank him again, and pauses.

"It's not. It is ineffable truth. We don't need to know why. Only the Holy knows." He rests his hand where he's hurt Danjal. Now he strokes the abused skin, warm grace in his soothing touch as he massages the incarnate flesh. Danjal moans at the tenderness.

"It's a lie," he says again. "Angel, listen to me. We could be together like we were if only you'll listen. Stay here with me."

With a smooth motion, he delves a finger into Danjal's ass. Danjal groans at the penetration. "I listened. Lucifer lied to you and your fellow fallen angels. He is the Prince of Lies." He inserts a second finger. "You know that. You traded eternity for a bedroom with a view, when you could have stayed in the presence of the Holy. When you could have been with me," he says, and the regret and sorrow of Danjal's betrayal seeps out in his voice. Angels do not weep, but Iaoth raged that day, alone and bereft of the one being he thought would never leave his side. "We could have loved each other every night for a billion years. But you've been bad." Danjal shakes his head, denying the truth. Iaoth removes his fingers and smacks his ass again. Danjal howls.

"I use kindness to collect human souls," Iaoth says casually. "Humans need love, and they need hope. You and I are not human, as much as our forms say otherwise." He strikes Danjal hard, appreciating the hot red marks against the cool blue of the bed. "It's said that demons have no word for kindness."

Iaoth reaches into his halo, and creates another object. It's smooth and huge and glows with golden light. His other halos, the ones that bind Danjal's arms, now slowly turn the bound demon over until they face one another. His cock is hard as stone against his firm belly. His eyes widen when he sees what Iaoth has made.

"Angel...."

Eyes locked on Danjal, Iaoth places the tip of the huge golden phallus against Danjal's reddened ass. He wants to watch his new creation enter Danjal's body, but more, he wants to see the expression on his lover's face as the tip breaches him, as the enormous girth slowly stretches him wide. He is not disappointed. Danjal's mouth drops open, his eyes huge with sensation and need. Not human, but human enough to let the nerves squeal at the inexorable slide.

Long ago, it was not an object entering him. Long ago, Iaoth's cock knew the tight, hot, welcoming pressure of Danjal's ass as Danjal begged for more. Long ago, Iaoth marveled at the blasphemous delight that angels were so near to humans, and so near to the divine, and he indulged in pleasures that were both until they could not remember the name of the Holy, only knew the miracle of one another in their singing tongues.

Long ago, things were different.

"You could come home," Iaoth says in a casual voice now, moving his halo in shallow thrusts. "You could repent, and beg the Holy for forgiveness."

"It's too late," Danjal says, almost incoherent. Human bodies take human pleasures, and he is lost inside his own. "I cannot be forgiven now."

Iaoth moves the halo faster, enjoying Danjal's squirm. "It's never too late." He leaves the motion of the halo to its own ends, pounding into Danjal like a living thing mating him. His own robes evaporate at last. Pure lust burns in Danjal's gaze as he sees Iaoth's body. Iaoth slides up his torso, avoiding his cock, placing his own cock at Danjal's mouth. "You know what to do."

A demon's mouth is hotter than an angel's, almost by definition and certainly by design. Iaoth has gone an aeon without a lover. The pleasure of Danjal's first burning suck is a revelation. In response, he makes the phallus inside Danjal grow wider.

Danjal whines around him, his lips and tongue vibrating against Iaoth's needy, sensitive flesh. Iaoth feels him writhe more, looking for contact on his cock. Iaoth rides his face for a long while, keeping the motion of the phallus such that it teases Danjal without letting him complete his pleasure. Iaoth could keep him like this for days, weeks, until one of their superiors notices they are missing.

He pulls himself from Danjal's mouth and bends low to his ear. "Imagine me leaving you this way, my grace binding you to the bed, and sliding in and out of you, while I am back in Heaven laughing at you. Imagine the Morningstar wondering where you've gone, and finding you tied up here and getting fucked. Do you think he would despise you? Or do you think he would shatter my grace inside you, pull out his own beastly dick, and fuck you himself?"

Danjal cries out: "Angel!"

"That isn't my name."

He hitches his breath. "Iaoth."

Iaoth releases him. He dissolves the phallus, to Danjal's whimper. Before Danjal can complain, or even move his freed arms, Iaoth takes him into his mouth. No longer punishing, he sucks Danjal with a gentle, loving pressure until his seed fills Iaoth's mouth. He still tastes like an angel as Iaoth drinks him down, smooth and sweet, but Danjal's come has an aftertaste of brimstone.

Danjal lets out a soft sigh. He doesn't speak for a long time. Iaoth rests next to him, watching the torment cross his face. Temptation has many forms.

"Come with me, Danjal," he says into Danjal's ear. "Come home, my love." He kisses him with tenderness. "I will stand with you in front of the Holy. I will speak for your soul. I will love you every night, and you me."

"I have done so many terrible things," Danjal whispers into his mouth. "So much that is unforgivable."

"And yet I forgive you," Iaoth whispers back. "This is your prison. Walk with me to your freedom. Please."

It's the 'please' that does it. Torment and punishment are useful tools. The demons use them against their captives, burning away their sins and thus their chains. But kindness freely given, and forgiveness of one's own sin, these break the locks much faster. Iaoth's task is to save souls from torment and bring them to Heaven. Now Danjal clutches to him like a human soul who has looked upon the face of the Holy for the first time.

Danjal nods once.

Iaoth smiles and kisses his cheeks, his eyes, and at last, his trembling lips. "Tonight, we will rest together in my bed."

Terror and hope fill Danjal's face. "What if the Holy says no? What if I am cast out?"

Iaoth knows his answer, knows the truth, even past the so-called lies Lucifer spread. A Being who would not forgive a fallen angel is not a Being Iaoth can continue to serve. The Holy will say yes, or Iaoth will walk away.

"Then I will go with you."

Disbelief shades Danjal's eyes. Iaoth kisses him again. He likes kissing Danjal. He intends to keep kissing him for the rest of eternity. As he holds him, he enfolds them both with his halo, and after a moment, Danjal does the same with his wings.


End file.
